


As Above, So Below

by EnterWittyNameHere



Series: The Cannibal and the Canary [1]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor is his own warning, Angst! We've got angst!, Asexual Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), But he's a handsy boi, Cannibalism, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, F/M, Female Reader, Graphic Violence, Human Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Naive Reader, Possessive Behaviour, Self-Indulgent, Squint and there's some gore, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Touch-Averse Alastor (Hazbin Hotel), Vague one-shot, fluff? idk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:34:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23398540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EnterWittyNameHere/pseuds/EnterWittyNameHere
Summary: *Updated summary*This is the tale of the night you died...In which Reader makes some poor choices and Alastor is Alastor.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel)/Reader
Series: The Cannibal and the Canary [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1689610
Comments: 8
Kudos: 176





	As Above, So Below

**Author's Note:**

> Long time lurker, first time posting.  
> This is 100% self indulgent and may not make much sense outside my fan-girl mind.  
> Quarantine got ya girl feeling all kinds of ways!
> 
> Please excuse the shit grammar/change in tense. Let's call it Artistic Choices.

You paid no mind to the water splashing over the tops your sensible shoes. Twilight was quickly approaching, but the brazen voice in the back of your mind urged you on, deeper into the swamp. Your heartbeat had long since out-raced your footsteps, breath coming in sharp, painful pulls; and yet you did not stop until a clearing opened up among the sweeping willows and long razor grass. A small cabin sat, windows dark and the front door ajar, ominously like the open maw of some slumbering beast. For the first time since you had set out from your humble apartment, your pace slowed.

The breeze lifted the stray curls off the nape of your neck, and your flesh erupted in goosebumps. To your frazzled, frantic mind, the sound of whispered voices carried to your ears from deep within. You stretched out a hand to push the door open, noticed you were shaking, and lowered it again with a huff. You rolled your shoulders and once again raised a hand. This time, the door swung on its hinges with such anticlimactic means that you were momentarily struck by just how mundane the action seemed. Of course it had been...people in town, they were wrong. There was no proof, no signs that the rumours had been anything more than frightened gossip. Times were hard, and hard times brought out the worst in folk...

You stepped into the house, noting the small sitting room was exactly as you had last seen it. A small, worn but comfortable settee, a high back chair in the corner and a prized radio on the table. A number of stately deer heads decorated the main wall; below, the hearth sat cold and empty.

Taking another few steps, you noticed what looked like lunch dishes scattered in the kitchen. A frown flit across your brow; that was rather unusual, given the general pattern of order and cleanliness. Behind you, the wind picked up. Your ears noted the lack of crickets and frog noise that usually filled the swamp this time of evening.

With a nervous huff, you brushed it off, and moved into the kitchen. A quick fumble and the small stove was lit, a kettle placed on top of the burner. It was always a good time for a cup of coffee. He was out, that was all. It may not be deer season yet, but there was plenty to hunt in the swamps of Louisiana...

You felt better as soon as the lamps were lit. The soft, yellow light chased the shadows from room, although you could have sworn you saw _movement_ out of the corner of your eye. Nerves, you supposed. Not unfounded, given the circumstances in which you found yourself.

You turned on the radio purely out of habit, the dial already set to the local radio station, although you knew you wouldn't hear his voice on it tonight. You had checked the radio tower first, knowing it was his favourite haunt while in town. It too had been empty of signs of life, although the pair of headphones thrown rather haphazardly to the table top had briefly set off an alarm in your head, but you pushed it away (you were rather stubborn after all). His absence both there and here at his home was...you shook your head. Silly to worry...

You settled in the high back chair and allowed yourself to close your eyes. It had been a long walk in, and your shoes were much more suitable for your job as a waitress than they were for tramping through the muck and long grass. Irving Aaronson's smooth voice came from the radio, and despite the hellishness of the evening, your muscles relaxed and you found your toes tapping to the familiar beat. If only the storm would hold off a little longer, it would be a nice evening for a dance...perhaps you could convince him to build up the fire; perhaps he would settle in the chair, while you rested at his feet, head on his knee, and his voice would fill the air while reading from the daily newspaper.

You frowned, suddenly remembering _why_ you had travelled across town and into the Louisiana bayou. It had been the talk of the day, a loud proclamation splashed across the newspapers headlines: _New Orleans Cannibal Walks Among Us!_ Wherein some fool hardy reporter believed that a beloved _radio host_ (of all people!) was responsible for a string of disappearances! Why, of all the accusations to be laid against your sweet, charming gentleman caller...

A loud crash sounded from out in the yard, jolting you out of the daydream you had sunk into. Heart pounding, you were up and moving towards the door before you knew it. Just as your hand stretched out to grasp the handle, the door flew open, ricocheting off the wall from the force. You flinched back, swallowing past the lump in your throat as you recognized the lithe, tall form in the doorway. The figure stalled, before a laugh sounded.

“Hello, darling” The familiar voice drawled, and Alastor stepped forward.

His ever present grin was on his handsome face, brown eyes alight with some unspoken mischief behind his round spectacles. He was wearing a button up, sleeves rolled to the elbow; one suspender hung loose on his left side, but otherwise his slacks were perfectly pressed. To your great relief, he looked to be just as _perfect_ as always.

You swallowed again, and shuffled forward, arms out towards him but waiting his consent. His smile spread like oil on water, and his arms opened to welcome you.

“Oh, Al...” You sighed into his chest, relishing in the feel of his strong arms pulling you close.

“This is a nice surprise, doll. I wasn't expecting you.”

“I know,” You murmured, focusing your attention on the fact that he was here, solid and in tact, “I-I heard...I had to check.”

Alastor hummed above you, large hand coming to rest in the small of your back, “Yes, I'm aware of what is being whispered behind my back. Fear not, my dear! This wacky nonsense will end soon enough!”

“I should hope so!” The rage that had been simmering beneath your skin flared to life, “What horrible things they're saying. Oh Al, what are we going to do? Can you fix this?”

Of course he could, you reminded yourself. If anyone could find a solution to such a sticky situation, it was Alastor.

“Don't worry, darling!” Alastor gave a chuckle and spun you around so you were facing away from him, your back pressed firmly to his front. You could feel his breath tickle the curve of your ear, before his nose traced along the pulse point of your neck. You tilted your head to the side to give him further access, and felt him press a _barely there_ kiss to the underside of your jaw. “I have it all planned, my darling. In fact, we're pleasantly ahead of schedule! We'll be taking our leave soon enough.”

Your head snapped up, gut coiling in on itself in wave of nerves, “Leave? Al, w-we can't just leave! W-what about my job? What about your radio show?!”

The image of your father and younger sister, grief stricken at your sudden disappearance, danced in your mind's eye. _It would kill them to lose you...so soon after your mother..._

“Where would we even go?” You cried, too wrapped up in your panicked thoughts to notice that Alastor had momentarily tightened his grip around your waist. You pulled yourself from his embrace, ignoring the slight resistance in the way his arms slowly dropped from your middle, determined to talk some sense into him

_running away does not make a man innocent_

The shadows seemed to bleed from the walls, flickering and twisting in ways that they should not. The stress of the evening was getting to you. You shook your head like a dog shaking water from its ears, feeling emotion welling up in your chest, pressure threatening to spill from within. Tears prickled the corners of your eyes, serving only to blur the sight before you. Alastor's smile became ghoulish, _beastly_ , as though your tears warped his normally familiar visage into something nightmare-ish.

He coo'd your name, once again pulling you close with a small twirl and flourish. He tucked your head under his chin and sighed heavily.

“The fine officers of New Orleans are smarter than they first appeared...” He admitted, sounding almost sheepish.

You froze in his embrace, fear crawling up your spine. He seemed to notice your discomfort ( _he could read you better than anyone_ ) and pressed a kiss to your forehead. He replaced his lips with his own forehead, so he could rest against you. You both stood in silence for mere moments, sharing breath.

Your heartbeat sounded unnaturally loud in your ears, despite the fact that you two had shared such intimate moments before. Something was _wrong_ , your natural instinct to turn tail and run rising by the second.

“Alastor,” You murmured; you flinched at the sound of worry in your voice. “What's going on?”

“Well, my little songbird, it appears I have finally been caught!” Alastor suddenly dipped you low, your hands flying to grip his thin but board shoulders in your surprise. “Why, I didn't believe anyone would figure it out, but I daresay I've been a bit too _cocky_ lately, my zest for the hunt clouding my judgment! Oh, woe is me, indeed!” His laugh prickled your skin in an unpleasant way as he leaned over your prone form.

“A-Al,” You struggled weakly in his arms. He still had you bent at an unnatural angle, making you rely on his grip to keep you on your feet. “T-that's a horrible thing to joke about...”

“My dear,” He sounded comically wounded, “This is no joke! I will be leaving this place soon enough, no doubt in my mind. And I desire that you follow me.”

He pulled you back up and spun you, and promptly lead you through the partial steps of a waltz before you realized he had moved you both to the once-cozy kitchen. You dropped your hands from his and retreated several steps back, until your hip bumped into the edge of the stove; he blinked owlishly at you from behind his glasses, as though your sudden show of defiance surprised him. He took two steps towards you, his long legs closing what space you had briefly been awarded.

“No,” You said softly, hands coming up in a weak attempt at protecting yourself.

He stilled, a small closed lip smile gracing his features. _Lord have mercy,_ you thought wildly, _he really is such a handsome dandy..._

“No?” Alastor questioned softly. He took another step towards you then. “My dear, beg my pardon but you seem mistaken.”

His grin grew, “It was not a request. You will _come with me_.”

You shook your head, taking a quick step away from him. Your pulse was pounding so loudly in your ears, you were sure he could hear it too.

“N-no, I'm going home Al.” How you wished you could stop the tremor in your voice. “I'm going home to Daddy, he'll know how to help...”

The light from the lamps seemed to flutter, as though a hard gust had shuttered their strength. You felt no breeze upon your skin, the evening air seemingly gone stale in Alastor's presence. Before you, Alastor's face darkened, and he gazed at you through half-lidded eyes. His teeth peeked through his lips, hinting at the predator he truly was. He gave a low chuckle ( _it rumbled in his chest like a warning)_ and shook his head rather sadly.

“Dearest darling dame of mine! We are running out of time, before the moon sets I must have you _ready_ for our journey. It'll only be a matter of time before they come with blazing guns, and I intend on going out on _my_ terms. That includes you, doll.”

He stalked towards you then, graceful as he always was, the dark shadow still present upon his face despite his grin. Your heart felt as though it would give out at any moment, and your legs began to shake. You could feel tears spilling from you eyes, hot and burning a trail down your cheek. You sniffled pathetically, and raised yours hands up in a pleading manner. He moved faster than even you, someone who knew him so intimately, expected. Within a mere blink of an eye, he had you pinned against the wall, his tall frame automatically placing you into a position of submission. Your pathetic tears continued, growing louder as he pressed his lips to your cheek. He lingered there, as though relishing in the salt that his tongue lit upon and the sobs wracking your smaller form against his.

“I had hoped for more time,” He muttered lowly, as though your crying did not register with him. “But alas, we shall make do with what we have.”

He pulled back so as to look you in the eye, his grin fading slightly. You had never seen him so pensive, and foolishly you believed that perhaps he was coming to his senses. He took in your face, dewy with tears and flushed red with your fear, before sighing deeply once again.

You gulped in air, but before you could get the words out to plead with him to _just let you go_ , his large hands - (Oh, how you had once _adored_ those hands and how they danced across the keys of a piano!) - settled firmly around your neck. Your own grip flew to his wrists, and you earnestly struggled against the tightening pressure. The man laughed and the shadow of something _sinister_ flashed across his face. Your heart was _thundering_ in your chest, perspiration breaking out across your brow. Soon, black dots began to dance across your vision.

He coo'd your name again, even as he applied more crushing force to your windpipe. Blackness began rolling in, clouding your gaze. You were vaguely aware of the pain from his vice-like grip, and the thudding sound of your panicked heart in your eardrums. Slowly, it soon began to sound as if you drifting under water, sounds coming to you in broken waves. Your vision grew hazier still and your limbs began twitching of their own accord. A few more moments of struggle, and your purple face grew slack. Alastor doubled down on his efforts, and was soon awarded by your frame going limp. He caught you with ease and hoisted your prone body further into his arms.

He took a brief moment to appreciate just how _delicious_ the sight truly was; he had fought against his more basic desires for so long and now seeing you in such a state was almost too much. He panted, teeth gnashing together. He felt crazed, a frantic energy threatening to burst from his very being. _Static_ hummed in his head.

The shadows from the sitting room grew to form monstrous shapes, twisting around the two of you. Fevered whispers echoed _mine/mine/mine...ours/ours/ours..._

Shaking himself from his daze, Alastor turned and promptly began walking out into the swamp, your still body nestled against his chest like a mother cradling a child. He could feel the weight of the altar blade in his pants pocket, his next course of action clear in his mind. He was going to _burn_ for all he had done to the people of New Orleans, but eternity was such a dreadfully long time and he could use the company-

He made short work of it all, considering. You laid out before him like the sacrificial lamb within the circle he had adorned with offerings. Blasphemous words slipped from his lips, as he caressed the sigils freshly carved into your pale skin. Your once beating heart now lay in the palm of his hand, still warm and _oh so_ tantalizing. You were such a sweet little doll, sure to taste just so. He smiled; you had willingly given it to him after all.

The wind picked up around him, and the excited whispers grew to match. He felt as though static was buzzing under his skin, waiting to spill forth. Somewhere back by the main road, the long bray of a hound sounded. Followed by another and another. Despite the warmth of the evening, a chill ran up Alastor's spine. His friends on the Other Side would be collecting their half of the deal before long.

**********************************************************************************

You awoke suddenly, acutely aware of the pain that radiated from your chest. You swallowed roughly, pain searing outwards. You tenderly placed a palm to your neck, gasping when your fingertips brushed the _bruised_ skin. You sat up, a wave of nausea hitting hard. You drew in a few deep breaths before willing your sore body to lift. You wobbled on your feet like a newborn foal, and as your eyesight began to focus, you felt the scream start and die in your parched throat. All around you, vile creatures of some ungodly design milled about, as though their existence was common place and not some fever dream.

Most barely paid you any attention; new arrivals fell every day. Some eyed you curiously, noting the sigils that littered your now ashen skin with interest. A chittering sound above you drew your eye, and a small bestial thing with multiple eyes and what looked like claws instead of fingers waved from its perch on the lamppost above you.

Instinct roared to life _(after death_ ) and you bolted. Your feet did not stop until you rounded a corner, having sprinted for a few blocks, and you collapsed back in the dirt and dust. You gulped in air in great, whistling gasps. Above you, the dark red sky stretched on for what seemed like eternity, a soft eerie glow emitted from the Pentagram set into the background. Your brain could not seem to focus on a single thought for more than a second, anxiety flooding your muscles. The pain in your chest blossomed again, and your skin burned as if a hundred white-hot needles had been pressed into your flesh. You felt strangely empty, fingertips twitching. You felt your loss of conscience sweep over you, and you gratefully welcomed it.

The shadows grew long and twisted into horrendous shapes...resting along your prone form as though loyal companions keeping watch...

Your return to wakefulness was sudden, and abruptly you became aware that you could no longer sense your heart beating. In a burst of clarity, you realized the meaning of your empty chest, of the change in colour in your skin, and in the (newly discovered) twisted antlers that grew from your head. You were just as beastly as the others found here.

The shadows twisted around you, cooing _foundyou/foundyou/foundyou_

Your skin erupted in goosebumps as the familiar sound of radio static filled the air. Terror bloomed in the void space of your breast. The lanky figure appeared so suddenly before you, it was if you had blinked him into existence. His smile was etched upon his face as if by some errant hand, much too large for the rest of his features. Similar antlers to your own adorned his head, large tuffs ( _ears)_ framing them. Red eyes shone wickedly, and a hand was offered to your still prone form. You blinked once, twice, in disbelief, not trusting your vocal cords to form the words you so desperately wanted to say ( _yell, scream, cry)._

“Come along, darling.” The familiar voice purred. The shadows grew impatient at the sound of their master's voice, writhing and swirling around you, lifting you up until you landed softly on your feet. Your hand found his without a second thought, and only then did the emptiness in your chest ease. He was so tall in this new form, you had to crane your neck upwards to maintain eye contact. Your delirious mind noted he was just as impeccably dressed as before.

“Al-” You whispered, tongue darting out to moisten your dry lips.

The man-no, _monster_ -before you threw his head back with a laugh, “Here I thought you had flown away on me, my little songbird.”

He pulled you forward, tucking your hand into the nook of his arm. With a twirl of the cane ( _wait,_ _microphone..._ ) in his other hand, he made to step forward, but you remained rooted in place.

“Y-you, you killed me!” Your voice raised, surprising both of you at the undertone of shock. You pressed your other hand to your empty sternum, and shook off his grip. Immediately, the pressing emptiness returned, but your newfound anger coiled hotly in your gut. “You-you took...you took...”

“Yes darling,” He had the gall to sound bored by your sudden outburst. “I took only what was already mine.” He eyed you greedily.

“You made a fine last meal.”

You felt the colour drain from your fevered face. His smirk remained ghastly, “I simply made sure you remained by my side.” He gestured to the sigils that littered your body; they flamed to life at the wave of his hand, burning red to contrast the new dark grey tone of your skin. “You said I had your heart. Or was I misguided, darling?”

You choked on your tongue which turned to stone in your mouth, burning waves of nausea damming your throat. He pressed further, offering you his hand once more. You eyed it as though it would ensnare you. He sighed through his nose, and with a quick adjustment to the red monocle he wore, he snapped his fingers and in a blink you were pressed tightly to his side, dressed in a pretty, delicate dress. You were even smaller compared to him in these new forms. An errant shadow rose to caress the side of your cheek and curled through your tresses.

“No,” The firmness in your voice stunned you both. “No, I'm not going with you!”

With a strength that even caught you off guard, you managed to push yourself free from his grip and before either of you could react, a shadowy portal appeared before you and you leapt headfirst with little mind to what the consequences would be. You distantly heard Alastor's snarl of frustration, before you blinked and realized you had materialized s _omeplace else_.

Decades passed. You remained on the outskirts of the Nine Circles, choosing not to get wrapped up in the ever-changing politics of Hell, content to simply _survive._ You maintained a far more humanoid shape than some, and between your curvaceous form and prey-animal attributes, you found a way to support yourself without becoming indebted to any of the Overlords of Hell. You may no longer waited on diners, but instead fed the morbid fantasies of others by offering up your body.

Despite the distance you were able to maintain between you and the so-titled Radio Demon, the shadows did not cease, instead creating a rather motley form of protection. You grew fond of them in twisted way...

It wasn't often that you travelled within the Nine Circles, least you become caught up in territorial warfare. The annual cleanse had only just finished and you were in need for more supplies. It was therefore a complete fluke that you caught the tail end of the news broadcast. You stared at the bubbly blond on the screen from between the gaps in the crowd. The Princess seemed adamant that souls could be redeemed...

If anyone had mistakenly been sent to the depths of Hell, it was surely you.

You set off for this so-called _Happy Hotel_ , thoughts buzzing around the idea of a final escape, paying no mind to the shadows that unfolded from the nooks and crannies to follow at your heels.

For the first time in ages, Hope swelled within your barren chest.

**Author's Note:**

> I may or may not continue with a few more one-shots, if there is interest. In short, they would be little glimpses into the world-building and head-cannons I have been playing with. AKA self-indulgent reader inserts without the work load of creating a proper story ;)
> 
> If you made it this far, thank you for joining me in my Sinning! 
> 
> Stay safe!


End file.
